


Up Close and Personal

by eeyore9990



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Derek Takes Care Of Stiles, M/M, No Sex, medically unsound pill taking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 06:11:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1499624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>eriakit asked:</p><p>Do you write A/B/O fic? I'd love it if you wrote something where Omega!Stiles gets his first heat, and he and Scott have had an agreement for a while that Scott would help Stiles through his first heat if Stiles was still single. But Scott doesn't come through, so Stiles panics and goes to the only other Alpha he trusts, Derek. Stiles had taken some sort of suppressant, but Derek didn't have any, so it's all cuddles and pheromones, with Derek somehow managing to barely control himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Up Close and Personal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eriakit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eriakit/gifts).



> Written for eriakit on tumblr.

This is the worst goddamn time for Scott to be out of town. Fuck Rafael McCall for deciding _now_ , this weekend, was the perfect time to rediscover that he’s actually a father. 

Stiles curls up in his bed, _keening_ into his pillow as he tries to fight through the haze of heat that’s enveloped his mind. He needs to call his dad, let him know what’s going on. See what kind of alternate plans he can make. Call… someone from the pack and make sure none of them come over. 

Stiles reaches for the phone and in the process knocks over the bottle of pills that had lived there so long he’d sort of forgotten about them. Hope floods him and he bites his lip against the sensation of his own body trapping his swollen, leaking cock when he curls all the way over to pick up the bottle of suppressants off the floor. 

Looking at the bottle, he searches all over it for the warning label. There’s nothing that says he shouldn’t take them while in the midst of a heat, so with no other better options, he shakily pops the top off and spills three pills out onto his palm with another two bouncing onto his bed. Fuck, _fuck._

Okay, no, it’s fine.

Dry swallowing one of the pills, he lets the others fall to the sheets, sure he doesn’t have the hand-eye coordination necessary to get them back in the bottle. It’s not like he uses them frequently. He’ll have his dad refill the prescription when this hellish nightmare is over.

Speaking of… He grabs his phone and presses his thumb to the home button until the talk feature pops up. 

"Call Dad," he chokes out, writhing on the bed as a series of gut-clenching heat-waves hits him. It’s need and want and desire and perfect arousal all rolled into one overwhelming sensation, and when it hits, all he can do is ride it. His ass is _dripping_ wet, soaking his underwear and his sheets and probably the mattress as well.

"Stiles?" he hears, and he sobs, turning toward the voice.

"Dad?" he asks, his voice high-pitched and needy. "Dad, my heat…"

"Shit," the voice says, almost a bark of sound, and that’s when he realizes it’s not his dad’s voice.

"Derek?!"

"Yeah. Stiles…"

"Supposed to be my dad," Stiles moans, shoving his hands down his body and trying to cram all of his fingers in his ass.

"I can call him for you. Are you all right?"

Stiles laughs, and it’s a hysterical sound. “No,” he admits. “Scott was supposed to… but he’s…”

"Okay, shit. Okay. Just… I’ll take care of everything."

"My dad—"

"I’ve got it covered, Stiles. Just sit tight. I’ve got you."

"K…" Stiles says, rolling over and dragging his pillow under him, rutting into it. It just makes him sob, though, because he doesn’t want something to fuck. He wants something _in him_. He _needs_ it. 

He rolls again, and something hard knocks into his temple. Dragging his eyes open, he looks to the side and blearily realizes his phone is there, the screen dark. Apparently Derek hung up, which… yeah. He’d said he was going to call Stiles’ dad, right?

Stiles is pretty sure that’s what he said. 

Deciding to trust in Derek’s ability to work a phone, Stiles rolls to the edge of his bed until he can swing his feet over and shakily stand. He needs to go get some water, some… He sways on his feet, woozy from his heat, but he thinks maybe it’s not as bad as it was earlier. He almost feels like he can _think_ again, but it could just be that his heat-wave is waning before it builds up again.

He makes it as far as the bathroom door before he _has_ to sit down. Thankfully the toilet it close enough to collapse on. He curls up, panting, and licks his lips as he stares at the tiny, disposable paper cups he uses in the morning to rinse his mouth. He feels absolutely _parched_ and wants nothing more than to fill one of those about a hundred times.

"Stiles?!"

Blinking past the sensation of drunkenness that overtakes him, Stiles turns toward the doorway and calls out weakly, “In here.”

He’ll swear later that Derek just _appeared_ , but apparently he’s already losing time. Before he can so much as say hello, Derek’s got him in his arms and is standing up, striding down the hallway to Stiles’ bedroom and redepositing him on the bed.

Stiles’ whole body arches off the mattress and he slaps weakly at Derek. “Fucker,” he moans. “I… water. So thirsty.”

"I’ll get it. Okay, Stiles? I’ll get anything you need. I just need you to stay here. Can you do that? Stiles… what…? Stiles, what’s this?" 

Stiles’ eyes roll around, trying to focus, but he can’t seem to make his body work right. “What what what?”

"It’s a pill… shit. Did you take a suppressant? Stiles, I need you to think. Did you take a suppressant this morning?"

"Yeah. It. No warming. No, I mean. Warning. No warning. No label." A bolt of fear spikes through him, and he reaches for Derek with grasping fingers. "Is it bad? Is it…?"

"No, it’s fine. I just. It’s going to make this a little worse for a bit because it’s going to mix up your hormones. But it’s okay, Stiles. Do you hear me? You’re going to be fine."

"Dad?"

"I called him. He’s going to stay at the station tonight. I’ll call him again in the morning and let him know how you’re doing."

"Scott was supposed to—"

"I know. It’s okay."

There’s a hand on his forehead then, and Stiles turns into it, rubbing his face against it. It feels amazing, having that skin against his. “Derek…”

"I’m going to go get you some water. Are you hungry?"

And just at the mention of the water, Stiles chokes on a sob. He’s so _thirsty._ “Water,” he keens, dragging against something. He doesn’t realize it’s Derek’s shirt until it’s tugging back.

"I know, Stiles. I’m going to go get some. You stay here; I’ll be right back."

"Okay." He sighs, writhing against his sheets as his body feels like it’s going to split apart. "Are you going to knot me?" he asks, and hears something crash against the wall.

"Uh. We’ll. I’m going to get you that water now."

Stiles nods and closes his eyes, letting the spinning, drunken feeling overcome him until he slips into unconsciousness.

—

When he wakes up, Derek’s in his bed, eyelashes a sooty fan on his cheek as he breathes slowly in sleep. 

Stiles, because he’s kind of an asshole, pokes Derek in the stomach.

"I thought you were getting water," he says, his voice deeply accusatory, when Derek blinks awake. 

"I did. It’s right—" Derek sits up and twists around, the sheets slipping down to show that he’s naked to the waist. 

Stiles nearly chokes on his tongue, then shoves the glass of water Derek presents him with to his mouth to keep from saying anything. He drains the glass, smacking his lips as he feels the fuzziness of heat dissipate for a moment. “What happened?”

"Your hormones surged, but the suppressants were fighting them and… you lost consciousness and your core body temperature dropped lower than it should have."

"So you thought, what? Body heat?"

"Skin-to-skin contact with an alpha helps omegas stabilize in extreme situations, Stiles. That’s basic biology. I’m surprised you didn’t learn it in sex ed."

"I had Harris for sex ed," Stiles said, rolling his eyes. "But yeah, I knew that." He coughs into his hand, lowering his eyes. "Thanks for… well. For helping."

"It’s not over, you know."

Stiles sighs and flops back onto his pillow. “Yeah. I know.”

"I know you’d rather have Scott, but—"

"Not really," Stiles says, turning his head to look out the window. "I just. It was always the plan, if I didn’t have an alpha. He’s an alpha, I’m an omega. It seemed like a reasonable solution. But no, neither of us actually _wanted_ to go through a heat together. I mean. He’s with Allison.”

"Yeah, but she’s a beta."

Stiles stared flatly at Derek. “Please tell me you don’t think Scott _cares_ about that.”

"No, but I mean. It’s not like their relationship would interfere in your plan."

"Well, whatever. It didn’t exactly work out anyway."

"Okay, well."

"Well."

Silence descends until Stiles feels a heat wave building in his belly. “Shit,” he whispers, clenching his legs closed in an attempt to stave off the embarrassment of leaking fluids all over the place. 

"Stiles."

"What?" he asks through clenched teeth.

"Come here." And there’s nothing but alpha command in that tone, making Stiles turn toward him without thinking.

"Oh, fuck you," he says, even as he’s climbing right up into Derek’s lap.

But then they’re skin to skin, and the burning cramping in his belly calms down, and the haze that had been filling his mind starts to clear. 

"I have no intention of taking advantage of you," Derek says, even as Stiles feels his huge, alpha erection pressing into his ass through the thin barrier of the sheet and his underwear. "But I’m here to help you through this, which means we’re going to be getting up close and personal for the next few days."

Stiles relaxes against Derek, soaking up the skin contact. “You’re not going to fuck me?”

"Not even if you beg me for it."

"Thanks, dude," he sighs. "Not that… you know. I mean, I’m sure you’d make a fucking awesome alpha, but I’d like to make that decision when I’m not heat-stupid and hopped up on conflicting hormones."

Derek smooths one hand down his back, chin rubbing the top of Stiles’ head when he nods. “We’ll talk about that later. For now, just relax.”

Stiles wriggles in Derek’s hold, stilling when he remembers the dick under his ass. “Um. Are _you_ gonna be able to?”

"What?"

"Relax?"

Derek sighs, sounding his normal level of exasperated, which… soothes Stiles more than anything else. “I’ll survive. If I have to, I’ll go work it out in the bathroom.”

Stiles grins and hides his face in Derek’s throat, sucking in the heady combination of scents that scream _alpha_ and serve to calm the omega imperative. “Yeah, well, don’t hurt yourself.”

Derek pinches his side, but Stiles can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Brat.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first time writing A/B/O fic, so. Feel free to let me know where I went wrong with the trope so when I write it again tonight, I do it right, lol.


End file.
